


Everlasting

by Alitheia



Series: brown summer [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, M/M, birthday fic for shizu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitheia/pseuds/Alitheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But,” he chuckled; this time sounded dry and cold, “we can’t go on like this forever.” [MidoAka Month #3]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeinnyaShizuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeinnyaShizuka/gifts).



> midoaka month #3 [dreams] everlasting  
> Kuroko no Basuke © Tadatoshi Fujimaki, i do not gain any profit from writing this fanfiction. since english isn’t my first language, i’ll be very appreciative and happily revise if you find any error. :3 by the way, be careful that the numbers are not in order. _(and though i told shy that i wasn’t planning to write anything in english, i ended up doing it anyway—ini kapal sakti bener ya www)_

**1.**

Around the time Shintarou turned seventeen, right when Tanabata was held, they strolled around the streets of Hiratsuka, watched the crowds dressed in _yukata_ walking by, and hopped from one food stall to another. Both weren’t actually the type to attend festivals and such, especially when it’s loaded with people, and dancers, and parades. Nevertheless, it wasn’t everyday they could meet each other, and the redhead initiated for something memorable, especially since he lived around four hundred and a half kilometer away. Seijuurou did mention about Orihime and Hikoboshi, that the legend were somewhat, similar to the current situation they were in; seeing each other once a year on summer vacation (though they did meet a few times on other occasions, but he said he didn’t want to count anything basketball related).

Down to every corner was filled with colorful streamers and decorated bamboo stalks (which Seijuurou pointed out that they reminded him of Shintarou—tall, green, and rigid. Shintarou told him to shut up.) They wrote wishes on _tanzaku_[1] and hung the papers on one of the bamboo branches. At that time, Shintarou didn’t want anything particularly, but still he wished that he could go to Tokyo University; they still have almost two years before high school graduation, though, but it’s best to do the utmost of his ability and plan everything early, right?

 

**5.**

It was four in the morning; he knew immediately, because the fluorescent blue light of the clock on the bedside table was the only thing he could see in the dark. Shintarou laid flat on his back, feeling his head aching. He tried to recall what he had done before going to bed, but it was hazy, like the dream he thought he just had—was it really a dream, though?

When his eyes finally adjust themselves, he could catch blurred objects inside the room. Shintarou turned to his left and found Seijuurou was sleeping next to him, the sound of his soft breathing faintly reached his ears. He didn’t know for what reason, but he felt the sudden urge to lift his hand and brushed the red hair, and so he did, and it didn’t take much for Seijuurou to open one eye drowsily.

“I woke you up.”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“Hmm.” Seijuurou snuggled closer to him. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock before answering, “A quarter past four.”

The other male didn’t reply for minutes. In another time, he would’ve just concluded that Seijuurou had already gone back to sleep, but that morning gave a sense of déjà vu, like he had experienced the same situation before, and somehow Shintarou knew that Seijuurou would say something. Where had that occurred, in the dream he just had, or was it really just him waking Seijuurou at dawn happened too often?

“Go back to sleep, Shintarou.”

His mind stopped questioning as he reached out his arms to hug Seijuurou.

 

**6.**

“You look tired,” Seijuurou said, and Shintarou considered it as a morning greeting, “even though you just woke up. Coffee?”

Shintarou nodded, watching as the other poured black liquid into a mug and placed it in front of him. “Remember that I woke up at four? I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Really,” Seijuurou took a seat across the table, “was it a bad dream?”

“I did have a dream, but I don’t think that’s the reason I woke up.”

“I see,” he said while adding sugar to his own coffee, “what did you dream of?”

Shintarou frowned as he tried to recollect. “I’m not sure, but there were you, and I, like at a festival or something.”

“Oh?” Now Seijuurou looked a bit interested. “What happened then?”

“We strolled around the food stalls and hang _tanzaku_ , well, things you’d usually do in that kind of occasion. I think.”

“If there was _tanzaku¸_ maybe it wasn’t really a dream,” he took a sip, then said, “we did go to Tanabata, twice. One with the others from Teikou, and another time when I visited you in high school, we went to Hiratsuka. You still remember?”

“I do.” He took a sip of the coffee Seijuurou poured for him, it was still scalding and tasted bitter, but he liked it more that way, with no sugar or creamer (though he preferred if it didn’t burn his tongue; he needed to make sure to wait for it cooling off first next time). “But I got this strange feeling that I’m forgetting something important about it.”

 

**7.**

“Where are you going?”

Seijuurou, who was tying his shoelace at the _genkan_ , turned his head to him with a questioning look. “Umm, on my way to pursue knowledge that will be the foundation of my future career?”

“It’s not an interview, just answer me normally.”

“You really can’t take jokes, can you?”

“That’s because you’re not funny.”

Now he showed a more disheartened look. “I get that a lot.”

Shintarou’s eyes traced down from Seijuurou’s fingers skillfully tying the string on the other shoe, up to the navy blue shirt and white jacket he was wearing. His laptop bag was lying on his side, and he had a notebook on top it, as if he was just having a morning study session but got cut off. He then stood up and gestured for Shintarou to take some steps closer. Seijuurou tiptoed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I have a class this morning, but you don’t. You seem really out of it since awaking, Shintarou, just go back to sleep, okay?”

 

**8.**

Right, they were sophomores in college now. They’ve been living together for two years and a half. He was a medical student while Seijuurou took business administration. They went to Tokyo University, which was three train stations away from their flat. Shintarou shoved the information into his consciousness, as he mulled over in the living room, rummaging through the books on the shelves and the leftover of last night’s dinner in the fridge.

He ended up picking an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter; Seijuurou always make sure that they have stock for every day, since he said it keeps the doctor away (another terrible joke by him, while clearly one of them will become the said doctor). Didn’t bother to peel the skin, he sat down on the sofa, biting the fruit with a crispy sound. On the wall in front of him was a TV, which they didn’t actually watch much except for movies and murder series (Shintarou thought it’s kind of annoying watching them with Seijuurou, since he’s always right in guessing who the killer was; often he would just tell Seijuurou to keep that shrewd mind of his for himself).

Chilly autumn wind sneaked into the room through the window he left open. Outside, trees alongside the pavement started to wither.

 

**2.**

“What did you write?” Seijuurou asked as they tied the papers.

“Nothing big.”

“I suppose you’re the type of person who’d probably wish to get into Todai, or something similar.”

Shintarou tied his _tanzaku_ on a branch above Seijuurou’s head, _bless his height._ “Don’t ask if you knew.” A thin smile brushed Seijuurou’s lips, and the bespectacled continued, “What did you wish for?”

“Nothing big.”

“Don’t copy me, that’s Kise’s job.”

Seijuurou laughed daintily, murmuring that jokes didn’t fit him, either with being sarcastic. Not letting Shintarou see his paper strip, he hooked their arms and pulled him away.

Evening had descended, the sky turned dark and the ornaments began to light up. From the corner of his eyes Shintarou glimpsed paper decorations—kimono, cranes, nets, purses, trash bags—dangling and swaying from the bamboos bent over the street, hovering in the dark as they glow in bright colors. A horde was heading to a stage at the end of the road, and soon the two found themselves dragged by the flow of people. Somehow Shintarou managed to get the both of them turned aside at the following intersection, and once again they’re back to where the food stalls were.

Seijuurou held the hem of his sleeve, and truth to be told it was still a bit embarrassing even though it wasn’t their hands that were holding. But the overall night was nice, Shintarou thought; there in Hiratsuka, even if they were to exchange gazes and Seijuurou wanted to act a bit like an idiot couple in puppy love, Shintarou wouldn’t need to worry that much since no one knows them (except if they were so unfortunate and say, met Kise and co. who might happen to come to the same festival[2]).

 

**9.**

“You’ll catch a cold if you sleep like that.”

He woke up to a voice he knew too well. Shintarou waited for a bit, counting the seconds in his head, before opening his eyes slowly to see that the sun had gone and the room was dim. He blinked a few times; his vision came back right when Seijuurou silhouette closed the window on his side. The dark figure approached him and brushed a hand to Shintarou’s forehead, his hand felt warm, then he crossed the room and turned the lights on.

Only at that time Shintarou realized that he had a book opened on his lap, the pages showed 19 and 20, though he couldn’t remember when he picked it up and started reading.

“Sleeping all day? How productive.” Seijuurou teased, he walked back to the entrance, putting off his jacket and hanged it on one of the hooks near the door. After that, he bent down to pick up his shoes and placed them on the rack. Shintarou noticed that he might come home and the first thing he did was closing the windowpane, out of worry that he would catch a cold. He had come to understand that even though Seijuurou was vexatious and could be unbearable at times, he actually showed affection in the smallest things.

“You’ve just returned.”

“Yeah, I have something to do this afternoon and couldn’t get home earlier, but look,” he lifted up a plastic bag of which Shintarou recognized to be from the nearest _konbini_ , “I brought you dinner.”

“Since when are you this thoughtful?”

“Since I realize that you’re horrible at cooking and I don’t have time to cook every single meal.” Seijuurou went to the kitchen and put the containers in the microwave, tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter as he waited for the food to heat. Shintarou sat till, rubbed his eyes and found Seijuurou’s bag on the table in front of him, this time with a text book next to it. Being the effective person he was, Seijuurou always had a book even for short train trips. The heating finished with a beeping, he took it out and brought it to the table for them. “I’m thoughtful of my own welfare. But it would be troublesome trying to enjoy your food while sitting beside a starving bespectacled carrot. So now, eat.”

“I don’t wear an orange jersey anymore.” Somehow, he rather replied for the trivial nickname.

“Not that you—or us, on that matter, play basketball regularly anymore,” by the moment, the redhead was already with his chopsticks, he then landed eyes on the book Shintarou was closing, “oh, were you reading, before you majestically fell asleep like a baby, by the gentle caress of the wind?”

“It seems that way.”

Red eyebrows furrowed. Shintarou thought it might because he didn’t respond to the teasing. “What was it about?”

Shintarou looked at the cover, before meeting his eyes with Seijuurou. “I can’t remember.”

“Oh, well. Doesn’t matter now. _Itadakimasu._ ”

 

**3.**

Munching his yakitori—pieces of chicken grilled on wooden skewers—and until that day Shintarou was still amazed by how fond Seijuurou of street foods while at home he could eat all kinds of chef-quality cuisine, Seijuurou asked, “Do you want to know?”

“What?” He turned his head and instantly gave a disapproving look. “And swallow first before you talk.”

“I won’t die of choking, Shin—well, about—”

“There were actually some cases where—”

“I said _I won’t_ ,” he gulped down, “there, that settles it. About what I wrote on my _tanzaku_.”

“I thought you didn’t want to tell me.”

“I’m telling you right now,” he bit a piece again, “but I’ll let you take a guess first, though.”

“I assume it didn’t have anything to do with good handwriting.”

“Why would I wish for a good handwriting?”

“Some guys I know still do that, you know.”

“Try again.”

“It wasn’t something about Todai either, was it?”

He blinked and turned. “Now why would I wish for a certainty?”

“Confident as usual.” Shintarou snuffled. His green eyes traveled, to the handmade paper lanterns and the luminous yellow, pink, red, and blue streamers overhead, filling the night sky and dancing in the wind. They hang from every streetlight and each rooftop, Shintarou thought that it was kind of amusing how people try so hard in making their decorations the finest and the most colorful, just for displays in a festival that last for—how long, three or four days?

“I honestly can’t think of anything that you’d wish for,” Shintarou finally said, “you have everything.”

“Not exactly,” he pondered, “there are still things that I won’t ever get no matter what.”

“For example…?”

“I can’t get the time to freeze,” when Seijuurou turned to him once more and their eyes met, Shintarou thought that his orbs, aglow in crimson, could replace any lantern in the whole festival, “wouldn’t it be delightful if we could stay like this forever?”

“Y-you mean, here, in the festival?”

He shook his head lightly. “Not quite, what I meant was it would be wonderful if we could stay at this age, in these days, not growing up to be an adult who have to face the real world.”

“It’s like you’re saying that you want to stay sixteen forever.”

“I think I am.” Seijuurou said. “Just think of it, we’ll finish high school before we know it, then we get into universities, become adults, go to work, some find love and establish a family, some just don’t, then we all ended up growing old and die. Life flashes in a blink of an eye. Sometimes I like to think what if people grow, then at some point in life they just stop.”

“I don’t really get your point,” Shintarou admitted.

“What if we could just crystallize the moment of us both being… for example, seventeen,” they were sitting on the sidewalk, Seijuurou bumped his bent knees to Shintarou’s lightly, “the world wouldn’t change, and there wouldn’t be anything that you and me are obliged to do—getting into Todai, finding a job, creating a family—just us, without worry of what the future would be.”

“Even coming from you, that still sounds ridiculous,” Shintarou said, then quickly added, “or is it ridiculous because _you’re_ the one saying it?”

Seijuurou shrugged, a ghostly smile brushed his lips.

“Well, certainly you can’t stay sixteen, and I won’t be seventeen forever,” Shintarou said as he finished his yakitori, “but we still have around three years before we really become an adult.”

“Three more years—coming of age?”

“Precisely,” he stood, holding out his hand, “you seriously think too much, Sei, just take a break sometime, and enjoy what we are in right now; if you do, maybe you’d stop wishing for this moment to pause so you could still have it for another day.”

 

**10.**

Sundays had been deemed as their favored day to saunter by, the only time in the week when he could see the always slaving Seijuurou finally freed himself awhile, ceased all of his readings and stop doing works. They went on little trips and made visits, usually either to the bookstore or nearby parks and museums, or just stayed all day at home, playing _shogi_ and doing the chores, followed by eating outside or watching a classical concert as rewards for themselves.

That one day on early November, they took the train a little longer than usual, further to the inland of the city’s western part. Both walked from the station towards the entrance of Showa Park, greeted by hues of red and gold. The air was slightly cooler, but Seijuurou had asked him to wear a warmer coat. They passed children playgrounds, their laughs swirled with wind, tickling their ears; couples pedal boating on the lake, or a family with a child in the middle; people taking pictures, under the fiery maple and lush yellow ginkgo as backdrop. It prompted them to rent bikes, cycled through the brown leaves and along the flower beds.

It was impressing of how they had changed since middle school, especially for someone like Seijuurou, who at one point in his life, only lived for victory and other absurd things like winning in everything. He had long left the principle of him being absolute, though at certain times Shintarou could still catch the look of what he thought to be remains of the emperor, glimpsing through Seijuurou’s red eyes. Shintarou’s change wasn’t as drastic, only step by step he learned how not to be so uptight at all times, and now he was able to appreciate mundane activities like taking a stroll in the park, while back then he would just prefer to use the time for shooting practice.

They stopped by the lake and park the bicycles, Seijuurou climbed down through the dry bushes near the water, Shintarou hurriedly follow, somewhat feeling like a father as he warned him not to lean too close.

 

**11.**

As they sat that afternoon, feet almost touching the cold water and maple trees sheltering above head, Shintarou thought that he finally able to understand what it meant to be wanting for the moment to stop. While a few years ago regarding the concept as nonsensical, he now felt like he could stay like this for eternity; while it was warm in the way their fingers interlocked, when the whole world in autumn faded, as nothing could compare to the dazzling red of Seijuurou’s eyes.

Shintarou felt that he wouldn’t mind to have him forever.

 

**12.**

Seijuurou didn’t like waking up early (though he still did, if needed to), but he was more the type of person who’d finished all of his work at night then waking up in the morning to do it, resulting in him being slightly insomniac when there wasn’t anything to do. Shintarou couldn’t tell whether he had trouble sleeping because of the habit of doing his assignments until late night, or simply preferred to do his academics at the said time because he couldn’t sleep. But then, since it’s bad for health, Shintarou would avoid unnecessary all-nighter if he could, and he tried to tell the other, but Seijuurou just wouldn’t listen.

At times when Shintarou’s dreams became more vivid, he would wake up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling as he recalled about what he just saw; they were always the same dreams—festival, _tanzaku_ , Seijuurou. Often he found that the other side of the bed was empty, and subsequently he would get up, hands fumbled to find his glasses.

It’s about half an hour past midnight, he glanced at the clock, then noticing that Seijuurou was on the balcony, gazing the dark horizon and out of space. He didn’t turn when Shintarou slid the glass door parting the bedroom; cold wind gusted him the moment he stepped a foot outside.

“Sei?”

“You’re awake,” he stated, placidly, “having dreams again?”

Shintarou wanted to say that he actually only dreamed of the redhead, and wouldn’t mind having them every night; what he minded was the fact that there wasn’t anyone beside him when he awoke. But he shut his mouth, like he always did, because saying things truthfully and straightforwardly wasn’t a thing he had learned. “What are you doing out here?”

“I asked you first.”

“Yes,” Shintarou held down the urge to click his tongue, “I dreamed about that Tanabata again.”

“Again?” He chuckled tenderly. “If you really want to go to Tanabata, I’ll take you to one, but you have to wait, it’s still a long way to summer.”

“It’s not it,” he pushed his glasses upwards, “So, what are you doing, aren’t you cold?”

Moments went by, and Shintarou used the chance to look around; here in the middle of the Tokyo, where human lights are replacements of the heavenly bodies. Even as the weather was clear like they were having now, there still wasn’t much to see. Vaguely, he could hear the sound of cars and the never stopping night life taunting in the distance. Then the wind blew, twice, thrice; it flew strands of red bangs, covering Seijuurou’s eyes.

“By the way,” Shintarou tried to start up a conversation again, “that night at Tanabata, you still haven’t told me.”

“About what?”

“About what exactly did you write on your _tanzaku_.”

“You’re still thinking about that?”

“I keep dreaming about it.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Shin,” he said, “now that my wish had come true anyway.” There was a short pause. “You asked why I’m here; I was just looking at the sky.”

When he finally turned, Shintarou could see that his eyes were gleaming like a pool of stars, neither any object up there, nor the light in the buildings down the city could contest the brilliant of his orbs. He always loved and hated the way Seijuurou stares; enchanting red iris, but kept giving him the feel of being examined thoroughly.

“But there are no stars tonight—or any other night, since we’re in a city,” Shintarou said, rhetorically. _Maybe you’ve caught all of them in your eyes_ , he added silently.

“Well,” he said, “but even tonight and any other, the moon is always beautiful, isn’t it?”[3]

By reflex, Shintarou’s gaze switched upwards, and he found it—the moon; above their heads like a silver coin on black velvet. Almost instantly after, he thought himself as an idiot, maybe Seijuurou was actually referring to a different thing. He turned his eyes back to the male before him, and readjusted his glasses once more, saying,

“Indeed, it is.”

 

**13.**

“I think I get it now,” Shintarou said, “what you meant by wanting the time to freeze.”

“It took you long enough.”

“It did,” he agreed, “but I finally understand.”

“Right when it’s almost too late,” Seijuurou said, “I’ll be an adult next month.”

“Does it really matter?” Shintarou exhaled. “Time always seemed to work differently when I’m with you, anyway. It flies faster.”

“Now would you say that you’d like for this moment to stay as it is?”

“I might.”

“But,” he chuckled again, only this time it sounded dry and cold, “we can’t go on like this forever.”

 

**14.**

“Shin, do you remember that movie?”

“Which one?”

“The one where you dream inside your dream, and to wake up you have to ‘die’ first.”

“That _one_ , we watched it in high school, right?”

“Right, let’s watch it again?”

“Then I’ll stop at the rental on my way home, maybe they still have it.”

 

**15.**

“You keep being here lately,” Shintarou said, “at least have a proper outwear, it’s cold.”

The sun was setting, they watched as the last remaining sun rays disappearing behind the skyline and buildings, creating dull shadows on the balcony tiles. Seijuurou leaned his back on the railing, tilted his head to one side, gesturing Shintarou to stand beside him. He then rested himself on the taller’s shoulder. “Wearing something like a coat just because you want to stand on the balcony seems a bit superfluous.”

“But it’ll prevent you from getting sick.”

“I have a private doctor with me, aren’t I?”

Shintarou didn’t answer, or too shy to do so. As they haven’t switched on the lights, he tried giving attention to the dark bedroom peeking from the thin curtain instead.

Low like a whisper, Seijuurou said, “I’ll be twenty by this week’s end.”

“You will.”

“I’m becoming an adult.”

“You are.”

“And we’ll attend the coming of age ceremony by January.”

“We will.”

“I don’t feel like doing it,” he said, “growing up.”

“How many times have we discussed this again?” Shintarou let a small laugh escaped his lips, partially disguised as coughs, even though he knew it wouldn’t work on Seijuurou. “I actually don’t really consider you growing up, because since we first know each other, you’ve always been too responsible to be called a child anyway.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Shintarou smiled, “that’s why I don’t get why you’re so uneasy about it.”

“Maybe I was just trying to wake up, telling myself that our moments are not everlasting,” he followed, curving his lips, “or maybe I was also trying to wake you up.”

 

**16.**

Seijuurou never turned twenty.

On the afternoon of December 19, he jumped from the balcony of their five-floor flat.

Shintarou had just arrived at home; he entered the bedroom right when the redhead spread his arms like sore wings. He turned his head, and Shintarou could read his lips, saying, _I’m waking up._ By the time he reached the glass door and screamed until his lungs felt like exploding, Seijuurou had already dived into eternity.

And the moment stopped.

 

**17.**

His footsteps echo along the white corridor.

The passage is often empty, like the rooms after they are left by their patients (—either back to their homes or family, or to the so-called future home, the grave). The years he had been spending in and out the building taught him that there’s no use in displaying a fake smile, so at most times he will just put on a straight face, like he always did and still does, since the only person whom he can be free with his true feelings had long been too far away. But his face is a regular around the place, and the coincidentally passing nurses and even a few doctors will greet him. At that gesture he will smile back a little, for courtesy.

He slides open the wooden door he’s familiar too much with, then more quietly than he does on the outside, he walks towards the bedside. The flowers in the vase on the side table has begun to wither, he replaces them with the ones he brings. Even as the only bright hue in the room, they still look insignificant and easily forgotten.

Then he turns to the bed, palms caressing green strands gently. Seijuurou greets Shintarou with _a good afternoon_ , asking how is he doing, telling him Cancer’s lucky item of the day. He reaches for a chair, places it as near as it could, and sits. Seijuurou begins his weekly stories; things he learned in class, books he read, films he watched, parks he visited. Most of the activities he did by himself, just like the _shogi_ he’d been playing without an opponent for the past four years, and the flat he occupies alone since the start of college.

Seijuurou tells him that he turned twenty yesterday, and he’ll attend the coming age of age ceremony in January. He also tells Shintarou about their friends; Murasakibara starts his training in a hotel overseas, a step closer of being a chef; Kuroko publishes a book and he gave a copy to Seijuurou, he’ll bring it next time and read it aloud for Shintarou; Kise hasn’t been heard much, but on holidays he’ll send them emails asking to meet up; Aomine and Momoi finally get together, Seijuurou thinks they’ll visit soon; Takao asked how is Shintarou the other day, he’s studying in a university outside of the prefecture now, but he said he’ll come by the short winter break.

By the end of his visit, Seijuurou kisses his forehead and whispers, _sorry_ , like he always did and still does, and also will.

When Seijuurou leaves, Shintarou is still there, in a deep, deep slumber, dreaming of the never ending days they probably are spending together.

 

**4.**

Seijuurou never really told him what exactly he wrote on his paper strip. He’d written something about living together in endless days, where they’ll never grow old and become adults.

Unfortunately, though, his wish did come true—but not for both of them.

Two months after the festival night, Shintarou got hit by a car on his way to a convenience storeand his life stopped at seventeen. The circumstance was so cliché and classic that Seijuurou wanted to laugh and wail for the irony. He and his stupid wishes; life and its sick jokes.

No one knows when will he wake up, but now Seijuurou can only wait, in the world that keeps running and aging, for Shintarou whose life had frozen in a moment.

* * *

 

[1] Paper strips with handwritten wishes, hung on trees.

[2] Hiratsuka is in Kanagawa Prefecture, where Kaijou is located.

[3] Maybe you’d want to check out this [link](http://lang-8.com/209586/journals/1465774) for a better explanation. Thank you Cita, who posted the link in the group one night and successfully reminded me of a certain MidoAka doujinshi. I feel like I couldn’t get it out of my head again if I didn’t insert _the moon is beautiful_ somewhere in my fanfic. Ini pairing memang bikin gagal move on. :’)

 

**17+**

Sounds of the crowd filled his ears and people walking by all of his sides. The rumbling and crackling fireworks in the sky prompted gasps and laughs, and the only thing he remembered before waking up is Seijuurou, telling him that the moon was even more beautiful when the skies were filled with fire flowers.

The clock showed it was still four in the morning; Shintarou woke up way too early and there was a little sting of pain on the back of his head, but he tried to recall, did he have classes to attend that day?

On his side Seijuurou was breathing softly, Shintarou brushed his hair and the male woke up by the touch.

“Shin?”

“Sorry, I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” he snuggled closer, “what time is it?”

“Around four.”

He mumbled, “Go back to sleep.”

Feeling slightly like a déjà vu, Shintarou hugged him and closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of shampoo on his hair, going back to the dreams of Tanabata, _tanzaku_ , and Seijuurou.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for shizu—while i’m truly aware that a birthday gift should’ve been something happy-fluffy-thingy, i could only produce this thing karena saya memang anu HAHA /kamu /janganketawa /sungkem anyway, still i wish a happy birthday for you! semoga sukses dalam misi mengikuti jejak mas mido jadi dokter (btw apa pun yang terjadi di fanfik ini ga ada hubungannya sama wish saya buat shizu lho ya /buangajadiaudah /sungkemlagi), selalu ditunggu karya-karya dirimu yang berikutnya, dan semoga tambah mazo ^w^ /HEH


End file.
